


sexually repressed communists

by kosmokuns



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bullying, Coming Out, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gay Bucky Barnes, M/M, Making Out, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, all will be revealed, also they all are british and live in england :), bucky plays lacrosse, bucky's had it rough, clint has hearing aids and bucky has a prosthetic, clint is wild, im not a communist i swear, the pride alliance of LSE, they are all rich upperclass kids, yay!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-15 13:25:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19296661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kosmokuns/pseuds/kosmokuns
Summary: Steve really wishes Clint would leave him alone, Sam would move in with Riley and he could go to art school, but with money comes power, something Bucky knows very well, and artists don't have money or power - his father wouldn't want that.Bucky grew up in a new era of Russia, a british child in a country growing in power and poverty, thrust back into England with one real arm and a sexuality crisis. He doesn't find his life fun.alternatively; steve causes bucky a crisis, clint is almost a communist and occasionally gets people in the right place at the right time.





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> hi all!! thank you for reading, this is my first chaptered fic for the stevebucky fandom and i hope you enjoy...

The British embassy in Moscow was not a cheery one in 2004. Birth rates falling and death rates rising, Vladimir Putin in his second term and of course, the overhanging gloom brought on by the Beslan school crisis. The hope for a better 2005 had slimmed quickly as the year progressed as more and more turmoil erupted in Chechnya. Even though the Soviet Union had fallen, suspicions of officials were still rampant, and Tobias could never escape the whisperings of “do you think he took Pietro?” or “foreign scum” that followed his black suit. He had respite from the tough demands of his job, though, in the form of 3 little horrors that were his children. James, Rebecca and Serena. They kept him going, even when the prime minister was suggesting sending troops to Afghanistan and the Russian officials were frantically telling him it was an uncivilised land of vagabonds. He viewed it that his life could have been worse. He could have been posted here 20 years ago.

He leant back on the wall and surveyed the room. Black and brown brogues sauntered over a plush, crimson carpet, ironic considering the amount of bloodshed that year, and women in dresses hovering just above their knees gripped onto the arms of the most influential men in the world, champagne clutched in their other hand. It was a very government New Year’s party. His saw his wife cutting through the crowd and he smiled at her and she smiled back, lights in her eyes dimmed just enough that he could notice.

“What’s wrong?” He said as he slid his arm around her waist, pulling her side close to his,

“Have you seen James?” She asked worriedly, she had every right to be concerned, everyone knew about children going missing from embassies during parties, never to be seen again. Tobias frowned, wrinkles in his forehead deepening,

“No, I haven’t actually,” He straightened up and scanned the room for his children, eyes accounting for every detail, at least his eyesight was still intact, unlike his good looks which had faded too quickly for his own liking. Rebecca was sitting on the floor beside a coffee table, walking her dolls next to each other and creating conversation between them, Serena was still in his sister’s arms where he had left her 20 minutes earlier, but James was nowhere to be seen. “Call over Mike, tell him to go find my kid,”

Winifred nodded and walked off, beckoning their security Mike into a corner, talking to him in hushed voices. His brow furrowed and he nodded at Tobias then strode off out of the room, exiting without a sound. She watched him leave and swanned over to where Serena was situated and pried her out of Tobias’ sister’s arms, the baby only making small snuffles at being moved between adults. After rearranging blankets and a tiny white hat to keep her head warm, Winifred and Serena walked over to where Rebecca was playing. Her mother leant down and pressed her hand onto her shoulder, saying something Tobias couldn’t make out over the din of the room. Rebecca looked back to him and smiled, standing up and ambling towards him, teetering slightly at walking as she had only been walking properly for 9 months.

Pulling a silly face at her, she giggled and attempted a sort of run towards him, ending up in his arms,

“Hey big girl,” He said, “What did mummy say to you?” Rebecca shined that bright smile at him again and replied,

“She said you had been doing too much ming-uh-ling and needed cheering up!” She threw her little arms around him and squeezed him as tight as she could. Tobias was thankful for his wife; she always had the best solutions to his problems. Use one child to replace the loss of another.

“Well thank you, sweetheart, daddy was getting quite bored,”

Rebecca nodded, putting on her best ‘understanding’ face and handed him one of her dolls,

“Now you have something to play with,” She patted his shoulder and walked off back to her coffee table to continue playing with her other doll. Tobias looked down at the doll in his hand, it had 8 strands of thick, blonde hair and a line of pen scarring one cheek with two green googly eyes stuck over its normal ones. He smiled faintly.

Another 10 minutes passed leaning on the wall and chatting to associates before something happened. There was a commotion near the door and Mike strutted in, carrying James over one shoulder and a small red-headed girl over the other. He saw them fist bump behind Mike’s head before he planted them solidly on the ground and gave them a hard glare, the two giggling after he walked away. Tobias caught James’ eye and the boy’s face went back to his usual stoic expression, he motioned for the two of them to come over. James looked at the girl, who shrugged in reply, then walked quickly towards him, the girl following.

“Who’s this, James?” Tobias asked when his son reached him. James pushed his dark brown hair out of his eyes with a small hand and then answered,

“This is Natalia, but she would prefer to be called Natasha,” James informed him, “And because she has a different name to her real name, we chose one for me as well,” They both nodded at him solemnly and he struggled not to laugh,

“Okay then, what is it,”

Natasha piped up from where she stood next to James, “We went through some Jewish names first, but they just didn’t fit his face,” She sighed exasperatedly, “So we decided we would call him Bucky, after his middle name,”

They both looked him dead in the eyes, serious expression on both of their faces. He realised they weren’t joking. Good lord, his kid had actually chosen to be called Bucky.

“Bucky, huh?” He said and they didn’t stop their glaring, “I’ll see to calling you that from now on then,”

The eight-year-olds cheered in response and high-fived each other, grinning. It was at that moment that his wife reappeared with a new champagne flute in her hand and no baby. She looked at the children and frowned,

“James, I didn’t know you had any friends here,” She said, puzzled.

“It’s not James, mummy, it’s Bucky,” He drawled, rolling his eyes. They were going to have to work on his attitude, Tobias didn’t want a disrespectful son.

“Yeah, and we’re friends aren’t we Bucky?” Natasha said, giving his wife a glare. These two were going to be trouble together he could tell. Bucky giggled a little at her tone and then quieted himself.

“How did you two meet then?”

They both started talking at once, elbowing each other when they thought they got a detail wrong and getting louder and louder in an effort to drown out the other. Winifred told Bucky to be silent and asked Natasha how they met,

“Well, Mrs Barnes, I wanted some strawberries and so I went to the kitchen to ask Miss Marya for some and when I got there, she was already giving them all to Bucky! So, I kicked him and took them out of his hand when he offered them to me if I wouldn’t kick him again. But then he complimented me on my excellent aim for his shins, so I decided to share the strawberries with him,” Bucky grinned and nodded excitedly at his mother. She laughed and told them it was okay and shooed them off to play somewhere else.

“You know whose daughter she is?” Winifred asked him, eyes tracking the red hair across the room,

Tobias leaned closer into her, “Hair that colour? One of our interpreters, probably why she speaks good English as well. She’s not dangerous,” She nodded and laid her head on his shoulder.

 

About a month earlier at a prep school in England, a small scrawny boy with messy blonde hair was sitting at a lunch table, sketchbook propped up on his knees, tongue poking out between his lips. In one hand he daintily held a charcoal, moving it in short lines across the paper and his eyes flitting up to a boy diagonal from him, laughing at something Thor had said. Steve had his lunch pushed away from him, it hadn’t been much anyway, just some plain pasta and a pile of kale that the supervisor had leered over to watch him eat. Lunch was never normally enjoyable, but today a handsome boy Steve had never seen before had arrived with Thor, joking about something. His hands had ached the minute he saw him and so he had asked the supervisor to get his sketchbook for him and the woman had complied. Now he sat hastily sketching him before he noticed, rough lines tracing on the page so he could do a more detailed sketch later.

However, the universe was not kind to Steve, as usual, and so it was at the exact moment that Steve was studying the boy’s eyes to get the curve right he looked over at Steve. In an effort to cover up, Steve looked back down and pretended to be sketching something else, but his bright red cheeks gave him away, blushing at being caught doing something he hadn’t asked to do.

“Hey,” The boy said, and Steve ignored him, “Hey you, what are you drawing?” Steve knew he couldn’t ignore him when he was the only boy in the entire school drawing something. He inwardly groaned, really cool Rogers.

“Um, a portrait,” He replied meekly, not meeting the boy’s eyes, he was too handsome for Steve to look at again without blushing.

“Yeah, who of?” The boy encouraged, he didn’t sound mean, not like Brock or Jack but Steve was still wary of people questioning him about his drawing. Steve mulled for a few seconds then decided to tell the boy, he didn’t look too mean, not like he would push or hit Steve anyway,

“You,” He said sheepishly, eyes flicking up to the boy. The boy looked ecstatic and grinned at Steve excitedly,

“Really? Can I see?” He said, then tacked on, “I’m Sam by the way, I’m new,”

“Yeah, I worked that out. I’m Steve,” He faltered, and turned around the sketchbook. The whole table was watching by now and they all gasped at the drawing. Sam looked gobsmacked. They were all silent,

“Wow Steve that’s,” He gulped, “that’s amazing. You’ve got proper talent,” Steve gave him a small smile,

“It’s not finished yet,” Sam nodded and told him to get back to it. Thor clapped him on the back and Steve brushed their elbows together.

For the rest of lunch, he continued to draw Sam, getting the sweeping curve of his jaw right proved to be a challenge but once Steve got it, he made a little fist pump for himself. He also might have gotten a bit carried away and added in each of his friends around Sam, all smiling towards whoever was looking at the picture. His hands were covered in black dust by the end of lunch and his maths teacher looked horrified, ordering him to go wash it off immediately lest he give himself an asthma attack. He rolled his eyes at himself in the bathrooms, cursing his failed lungs for what felt like the millionth time.

The rest of the day rolled past Steve slowly, he was alright at maths, especially problem solving, but history really was not his thing. His dyslexia messed up all his learning in history, Steve thought he would probably enjoy it if it wasn’t for the amount of writing involved. Phil always gave him a sympathetic look when he was still reading the sheet they had been given five minutes after the class had moved on. He would give up if it wasn’t for the fact his learning support teacher was scary and would somehow find out if he hadn’t been trying in class, he had his coloured overlay to use though, so it was easier to read than normal.

When school finished, Thor helped Steve put his backpack on and walked out of the classroom with him. Steve had fully intended to go straight home but Sam was loitering in the corridor, scanning faces for someone.

“Hey Sam, who are you looking for?” Steve called to him and Sam spotted the two of them and came towards them,

“You, actually, I was going to ask you if I could have the drawing you did of me to show my mum,” Sam said brightly, grin still attached to his face. What was with this guy and happiness?

“Yeah, Thor could you-,” The boy reached for Steve’s bag and he sent him a small thank-you as he got out the sketchbook to give to Steve. Steve ripped out the page and handed it to Sam. The boy thanked him then bounded off down the corridor while Thor helped Steve put his bag back on.

The next day Sam brought in the drawing and gave it back to Steve and told him about how his mum had gushed about it. Steve cheeks went rosy red and Sam laughed at him before throwing an arm tentatively over his shoulder and steering them off to lunch.


	2. let it begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> let's see what they are up to now, shall we?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know why there is so much punching, but there is

Sam heard heavy footfalls behind him before he actually saw Steve, the man ran like an elephant. A graceful elephant, but still an elephant. He sped up to try and keep up with Steve and let out a frustrated yell when he powered past him along the pavement,

“Mate, that’s just unfair!” He shouted after him as Steve threw him a cheeky wink over his shoulder. Ever since getting his enhanced body, Steve had been showing off whenever they did anything physical, honestly, Sam didn’t mind – Steve deserved it. However, it still annoyed him because he used to be able to lap the skinny rat and now, he was 3 laps behind him. One thing that would never change about Steve was how irritating he was. No magic medicine could fix that.

When Sam jogged towards the exit of Hyde Park, he saw Steve hollering at him and standing next to a police officer. As he got closer, he recognised the tight brunette bun and blood-red lipstick applied carefully across a pair of feminine lips and grinned. Steve was laughing at something she had said, doubled over and clutching his stomach, the officer did not look amused.

“Hey Officer Carter, haven’t seen you for a while,” He winked at her and she gently punched his shoulder,

“Thank the Lord I haven’t seen you boys recently, it’s been so busy at the station I think you would throw me over the edge,” She said, voice clipped but a twinkle in her eye. Steve put his weight on to one hip and crossed his arms,

“What’s that supposed to mean? We’re your best citizens,” He said incredulously. Rolling her eyes, she angled her body away from him and Sam snorted, Steve sporting a wounded expression on his face.

“If I have to put you in handcuffs one more time Rogers, my superiors are going to start thinking I'm colluding with the enemy,”

Sam outright laughed at that and Steve put a hand on his heart as if to act as though he’d been shot.

“You wound me, Officer Carter, you wound me,”

She punched him in the stomach and strutted off, continuing on her beat around the park. Steve got the same faraway look he got while reminiscing on something and sighed softly; Sam almost felt sorry for his kicked puppy expression. Almost. He touched Steve’s shoulder and they both began the walk back to their apartment. It wasn’t long, they had got a well-situated apartment that worked for both of their degrees with comfortable living space. They were fortunate to have lived the life they had.

Steve unlocked the door of the apartment and pushed it open, stepping into their lounge and observing for any misplaced items or missing things, it was a habit he couldn’t get out of. Sam pushed past him into the kitchen, and promptly screamed as soon as he walked in.

“You gave me a fucking heart attack, what are you doing here?!” Steve heard him say and knew immediately who was in his kitchen. He groaned out loud and then heard a loud guffaw of laughter. This day was going from seven to four out of ten rapidly.

He dragged his feet across the wood panels of the lounge into his kitchen, sweat beginning to cool on the small of his back. Gross. He really needed a shower, a protein shake and to get his essay done for his lecture later. Standing in the archway into his kitchen, he examined the scene in front of him in all its chaotic glory. Clint was sitting half in a cupboard with one knee up to his chest inside the unit and the other stretched out flat on the floor, neck curled so he wouldn’t hit his head on the underneath of the counter. In his hand he held a packet of kettle crisps, shovelling them into his mouth while Sam stood over him, death glaring to the max.

“Clint- why?” Steve moaned rubbing his fingers over his forehead. Clint grinned wolfishly at him,

“I came to talk to my favourite sexually repressed communists, Steve, don’t see what the issue is with that,” He said through a mouthful of lightly salted crisps, Sam snatched them out of his hand and shoved a handful into his own mouth, making Steve snort. Sam shrugged his shoulders and Clint stood up out of the cabinet and huffed, then promptly kicked him in the nuts. Sam let out a howl of pain,

“Clint that fucking hurt, you absolute monster,” He shouted, clutching his balls while wrapping the crisps close to his chest, keeping them out of Clint’s reach.

“Clint there were so many things wrong with what you just said and did that I can’t even begin to explain,” Steve said, his patience thinning, “Why are you actually here?”

Clint leant on the countertop, knocking over a half full kettle as he put down his elbow and Sam cringed – his poor granite work surfaces. Clint didn’t even flinch.

“Yes Steve you are right, I only visit you for motivational speeches and to improve your desperately sad social life,” Steve opened his mouth in protest and Clint held up his hand, making him silent, “Running the Pride Alliance does not count because everyone there except the lesbians wants to fuck you and you haven’t fucked anyone,”

“How does that not count,” Steve replied, rattled. Clint sighed heavily and rolled his eyes,

“ _Because_ Steve, gay people who just want to ‘belong’,” He made quote signs in the air at that, “are never good company. In fact, anyone who wants to ‘belong’ is never good company,” He paused, “Also you haven’t shagged anyone in years, and I plan to rectify that,”

Sam sipped his protein shake he had quietly got himself, “It was actually only three months ago, and she was really hot,”

Steve groaned so loud he thought the neighbours could hear him, “Why does everyone want to discuss my sex life!” Clint and Sam both started laughing, fist bumping at their ability to make Steve uncomfortable.

“Anyway, I’m having a party tomorrow night, you know where and you don’t need to bring anything. The Imperial crowd said they would buy alcohol and dear old dad is supplying the food,” Clint winked and walked out, bashing his shoulder on the door frame and slamming the door behind him.

 

Steve sighed and looked at Sam,

“Don’t look at me, mate, it’s not my fault you never bang anyone,” Sam said, taking a gulp of his protein shake and walking out of the kitchen, presumably to have a shower,

“Why does everyone think I’m a communist?!” Steve yelled at his back and he heard a loud cackle as Sam laughed at his pain.

*

Things were going very differently for a boy just a bit further West across London. Bucky trudged into the changing rooms, putrid smell of male sweat and toxicity mixing in the air, he should be used to it by now. The rest of the team was two minutes ahead of him because of Thor asking him to take the balls back into the sport centre. It wasn’t his fault that the abuse would now be worse, but Bucky would rather go in early than let them all discuss their insults before he walked in.

The room was silent as he threw his lacrosse stick down on the bench and grabbed his bag from underneath it. He braced himself.

“Took you long enough, Barnes, suck any dick while you were there?” Jack jeered and the rest of the men laughed, the sound pressing into Bucky from all sides and pricking his skin. He unzipped his bag with barely controlled hands and took off his shirt, scars on his shoulder visible to all of them,

“No girl is going to want to fuck you with scars like that, let alone a man,” Jack whispered, edging closer to him from behind. It was nothing he hadn’t heard before. Bucky may have a prosthetic arm that could show itself as his skin colour, but nothing would fix the angry red slashes on his left shoulder from the tearing of gravel and poison of the rain and the cold. He pulled a black t-shirt on and pushed his hair out of his face, ignoring the insults. Jack grabbed his hips and swung him around,

“A poof like you hasn’t got any right to be on this team,” He sneered, inches from Bucky’s face, “You gays should stick to what you’re good at,” He said the word gay like it disgusted him that he would have to even say it. He turned Bucky back around and shoved his face into the bench with a hand on the back of his neck and leaned down to hiss in his ear, “We haven’t got room for benders,”

Brock had been leaning on the wall, quietly menacing for the time Jack had his turn but now he saw fit to interrupt. Jack saw him move out of the corner of his eye and stepped back and Bucky stood up, chest heaving as he sucked in oxygen. Brock prowled towards him; the rest of the men held their breath in anticipation. He gently touched Bucky’s cheek, then punched him hard in the stomach and kneeing him in the groin.

“Fucking disgusting,” He said, and the rest of the men made noises in agreement, “Nobody wants your kind on a sports field,” He spat, continuing his assault on Bucky’s body. His chocolate eyes were beginning to fill with tears at the violence, blood trickling out of cuts on his abdomen and legs. Brock never touched his face or neck.

It continued for another ten minutes until Brock got bored of him not fighting back and spat one final time in his face then strutted back over to his side of the changing room. Bucky pulled on his jeans, the material grating on his forming scabs and then putting on his belt, running a hand through his sweaty hair. He hastily packed his kit away into his lacrosse bag and dashed out of the changing room, breathing in the clear air and smiling gently at anyone who passed him in the corridor. He was going so fast he didn’t see Natasha until he walked into her small frame, body wobbling slightly on her legs,

“Чёрт, Bucky watch where you’re fucking going,” She said, amused. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and looked down at her. She took in the slight downturn of his lips and the stiffness in the way he stood and sighed softly, “C’mon, let’s go,” She said quietly, taking one arm and leading him down the corridor. Tears began to form in his eyes again, threatening to spill over for another time this year. She rubbed his back soothingly, guiding him out of the building and into the warmth of her car.

He examined the dashboard miserably, wrapped up in one of the blankets she kept permanently in her car for all her broken friends.

“Bucky you’ve got to stop them doing that to you,” He didn’t look at her, “We both know you could fight back if you want to. You’ve got the strength,” She said, staring at him intently. He cursed frustratedly,

“When Shuri gave me this arm I promised her I wouldn’t misuse it, Nat, isn’t fighting back and using this,” He gestured at it, “breaking that promise?” Head turning, he stared at her, tan skin still glistening from the sweat of training. He would shower later, but for now it served as a reminder of his abject situation

Natasha sighed loudly, “Why are you so goddamn stubborn? At least tell Thor,” Bucky shrugged, going back to staring at the overcast weather outside her windscreen,

“He has his own problems,”

“That isn’t a reason to ignore your-,”

“Jesus Nat! Leave it alone, okay?”

She gulped and nodded, then switched on the engine and drove away from the sports centre. She had her heaters on as high as they would go and had handed him a flask of tea that he was sipping minutely so not to burn his tongue. He felt as though his body had suffered enough today.

They sat in their lounge later that day after Bucky’s last lecture watching Shadowhunters and drinking coke and vodkas. Their TV was an average size as Bucky’s mother had insisted, they at least had to pretend to be normal uni students, but the illusion was broken by the designer clothes they both wore and the fact that they would never have any student debt.

“Clint invited us to a party tomorrow, by the way,” Natasha said, eyes tracking Isabelle Lightwood’s movements across the screen. “He wants us to buy alcohol,”

“Why does he always ask us?” Bucky said, focusing on the same thing as Natasha,

“Because we’re Russian,” She said slowly, as if explaining a triangle to a toddler. Bucky scoffed and hit her shoulder and she giggled, “What? It’s true!”

“You are Russian, I’m honorary Russian,” He replied as Isabelle strangled a man with her snake bracelet. Natasha rolled her eyes and downed her drink, raising an eyebrow at Bucky and daring him to do the same.

They both stumbled back to their bedrooms well past midnight.

*

“What about this one?” Steve said, pulling a black shirt out of his wardrobe and holding it up to Tony so he could examine it. He shook his head,

“Too formal. You wanna get fucked by a uni student, not someone’s dad,” He said, sipping on a coffee and making taking notes on the expansion of google on his phone. Sighing, Steve hung it back up and chose a turquoise short-sleeved shirt with some embroidery on the collar from his teenage neighbour to show Tony. His mouth dropped open when he saw it, “Go put that on now, Rogers,”

Steve complied and pulled his t-shirt over his head in the ensuite. He caught a glimpse of the white lines that crawled up his side which had been decorated with all sorts of wildflowers, they curled over the scars and their stems seemed to knit them together, connecting his back with his front. They had been done the day he turned eighteen, as he had been desparate to make such brutal lines look beautiful. His mother's eyes had streamed with tears when she saw the tattoos finished and her arms and enveloped him as she sobbed into his shoulder, finally taller than her. She had touched his cheek and whispered _'they look so beautiful'._ He buttoned up the shirt and stepped back out to give Tony a show,

“That is too tight to be your size, Steve,” Tony said and beckoned him over to kneel down so he could see the label.  He made a noise of annoyance; it was definitely too small. Fuck Steve and his body, “This is the one,” He said, “I like the embroidery,”

“Yeah, so do I, America did it for me,” Steve said, standing up and stretching his back, bending back and forth. He smiled softly at it, carefully fingering the collar. She had been so gracious about it, almost perfectly transferring his sketches onto it so it matched the ones further down his body. Steve knew she had spent days finding the right colours and then stitching them on during her summer holidays. America was one of the few people that understood the importance of the flowers to him and had nodded solemnly when he had arrived at her door and asked her to do them.

At that moment, Sam arrived at the door and whistled,

“Damn,” He said, giving Steve’s body a full sweep with his eyes, “You look hot,”

Steve blushed crimson and looked down, “Thanks, Sam,”

Sam winked and told them to hurry up. He had a fucking party to get to.

*

Bucky, meanwhile, had been sent to the local Sainsburys to buy alcohol for Clint’s party. He stood in front of a wall of spirits and perused what kind of alcohol people would be in the mood for, vodka was always a must, along with beer and tequila, but aperol spritzs had been steadily gaining in popularity with upperclass students and he wondered if it would be a good idea to grab some prosecco.

He was so distracted that he didn’t see the man and his trolley careening towards him until it was too late. He heard a shout, and then a trolley filled with vegetables knocked him to the ground, his body slamming against the lino floor of the supermarket. Hissing, he felt some cuts from yesterday open on his ribs, warm blood trickling out of them.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

He must be in heaven, a man with floppy black hair and pale skin stood over him, lines in his forehead creasing as he looked down at Bucky. He lay there for a few more seconds and then decided he would have to get up, even if a beautiful man was staring at him.

“Yeah, I’m,” As he sat up, he winced as he leant on a particularly nasty bruise on his arse, “I’m fine,” He gave the man a weak smile. He still looked concerned. “Really, I’m fine, and you look like you have a massive stir fry to go make,” Bucky said.

The man laughed and ran a hand through his hair,

“I do actually,” He said, giving a hand so Bucky could pull himself off the floor, “I’m sorry I hit you!”

He took his trolley and walked off, leaving shellshocked Bucky standing and looking at a bottle of Smirnoff vodka. It seemed to be judging him,

“Just a cute guy, nothing gay about thinking a guy’s cute every now and then,” He said to it petulantly, crossing his arms. It didn’t reply.

He huffed and grabbed all he thought he needed and went to the checkout to pay for it all. Thank God for Clint’s dad’s credit card.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhh... sorry!! i had to do a presentation on martin luther king jr. kinda ready to yeet myself out of the window, not because he isn't cool, but because there's only so many times you can read about people getting lynched before not being able to sleep. i have reached the limit.
> 
> anyway, this is for my RS class. i stan u guys.
> 
> as always my tumblr is this 

**Author's Note:**

> this was a start, i already have half of chapter 1 written so i hope i can get it up by sunday. i don't want to leave too long between updates and there's only two weeks of school left so it should be every 3/4 days. as always comments are greatly appreciated and i would love to hear from you on [tumblr](https://toofarovertherainbow.tumblr.com/)


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